


Perciver and Fremione

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fred Weasley Lives, Good Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Epilogue Compliant, Weasley Family-centric (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: Fred has spotted an impending romance, and wants to show Hermione. But he has another reason for drawing her into his hiding place. A bit of Burrow-based Christmas fluff which is low on plot but high in happy Weasley feels.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 32
Kudos: 302





	Perciver and Fremione

**Author's Note:**

> A small one-shot for the festive season and here's wishing everyone happy holidays and a wonderful 2020. Back in January with more Fremione and the Weasleys, and huge thanks to fairylightinthenight and Flower for their support, encouragement and comments. And the very last line in this is Flower's :-)

Hermione didn’t expect The Burrow’s living room to be in semi-darkness when she went downstairs. It had been light when she had arrived home in the early afternoon, just a few days before Christmas. Molly had left a note on the kitchen table saying that she was taking Arthur out to do some last-minute shopping, and Hermione was glad of the peace. She had unpacked her bag, smiling to herself at the thought of having a few days off, and then splayed herself out on the bed to begin her new book in the stillness of the room that was all hers now that Ginny and Harry had married and moved into Grimmauld Place. But the December days were short and, when Hermione looked up towards the window some time later, she saw that dusk was beginning to fall.

The young witch stretched, decided she needed a cup of tea and began her descent of the rickety, wooden stairs. She reached for her wand as she neared the bottom, ready to cast a spell on the lights strung around the Christmas tree and add some illumination to the darkened living room. But then she noticed something. 

The room was too dark. 

Still wary from the effects of the war, Hermione adopted a duelling pose and carefully entered the room. She soon saw what was wrong. Someone had closed the curtains and was hiding behind them.

Creeping quietly towards the covered window with her wand raised, Hermione could feel her heart. But, before she had decided whether to verbally challenge the intruder or to throw a surprise hex first and ask questions later, a familiar head poked out from between the curtains. 

“Fred!” she shouted; her voice a mixture of crossness and relief. She was immediately ‘shushed’ by the tall, redheaded wizard, who took hold of her hand and pulled her to join him behind the closed curtains.

“Hush, love,” he said. “I’m trying to be subtle here.”

Hermione made a sceptical noise. Subtle wasn’t a word normally associated with Fred Weasley. Loud and ebullient, maybe. Subtle, not so much. 

“Look,” he said, gently tugging her to stand in front of him. He moved the curtain to make sure that it covered them both.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “I thought the house was empty!” Only four people lived at The Burrow these days; Molly, Arthur, Hermione and Percy, who had returned to the bosom of the Weasley family after the war and accepted Molly’s invitation to move back home and rebuild his relationship with his family. But Percy would be at work at this time of day.

“I nipped over with some stuff for Mum,” Fred explained, nodding his head back towards the living room but keeping his eyes fixed on something in the garden.

“Are you hiding from someone? There’s no-one downstairs!”

“Not hiding from anyone in the house, Hermione. I’m monitoring the latest Weasley romance and trying not to be seen. Look!” he repeated.

Following his eyes, Hermione looked over towards the swing that hung from an old tree. There, in the dusk, upon the swing, but not really moving, was Fred’s brother Percy. Not at work after all. And just a few feet away was Oliver Wood, Percy’s old school roommate and former captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, which Fred and several of his siblings had played in. 

“Are they planning to go out and meet witches then?” Hermione asked.

Fred looked at her, trying to gauge if she was really that innocent or whether she was teasing him. He quickly realised it was the former.

“Nooo, not exactly,” he said. “I don’t think they’re into witches. And they hide it well, but I think they like each other. Think they have done for a while. And now that we’ve all survived Voldemort and all that crap, well everyone’s realising that life’s too short not to tell those you fancy that you fancy them, don’t you think?”

“Mmmm, I suppose,” she said, although Hermione hadn’t given that a lot of thought. She had been rather busy fighting to think about who she might fancy. And then busy letting Ron down gently when she realised that he wasn’t the wizard for her. And then busy starting her new job, and…

“Look,” Fred said again, interrupting her thought process. “If you want to join, you’ll have to stand right in front of me. It’s less likely they’ll spot us if we’re close together.” He pulled her to stand in front of him. Hermione started to protest that she hadn’t wanted to join; that he had made her join, somewhat against her will, but she found she rather liked the feel of having Fred’s chest against her back and his arms around her. She felt sensations in her body that were a bit unexpected, and decided to go along with his plan. Just for the sake of research.

“You’re to have me believe you’re a big soppy romantic then?” The tone of her voice didn’t exactly scream belief.

“I am a bit.” His voice was soft in her ear. “Does that shock you?” he asked, and she nodded. “Probably a lot of things about me would shock you, if you knew them.” His voice contained a tone that she wasn’t sure how to interpret. It wasn’t unwanted though.

“What shall we call them?” he asked, changing the subject and moving his hand in the direction of the two wizards in the garden. They were chatting easily; Oliver leaning against the tree in a position that Hermione was almost certain was a deliberate attempt to show off his muscular frame. He was illuminated only by the strings of fairy lights that Charlie and Bill had strung around the garden during Molly’s famous Sunday dinner the previous week.

“Other than Percy and Oliver, you mean?” Hermione was confused. She was still wondering why Percy wasn’t at the Ministry.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s all the rage to contract couple’s names, I hear. Everyone’s doing it.”

“Oh?” Hermione hadn’t heard of that. “Like who?”

“I don’t know,” Fred admitted, “but I know it’s a thing. Angelina was talking about it in the flat earlier. She isn’t keen, because,” he laughed softly, “she and Georgie would be Gangelina, which I pointed out sounds like a muggle disease.”

That did make Hermione laugh, and Fred took the opportunity to hold her closer to his body. She didn’t protest.

“So I then pointed out that they could try it the other way around, and be Angelorge, but apparently that’s worse.” He shrugged, and Hermione could almost feel his smile. “So what do you think?” he asked, as they watched Oliver step closer to the swing and teasingly pull the ropes towards himself a bit. Seconds later, he let the swing go, making Percy laugh as he swung backwards and then towards Oliver again. 

“Poliver?” she asked. “Or Olivercy?”

“Ooooh, good ones,” Fred said. “Oliver seems to be in charge, doesn’t he?” Hermione laughed softly. “I was wondering about Perciver,” he added.

“Oh, I like that,” she said, watching Perciver inch closer to becoming a reality. Oliver had retaken control of the ropes that secured the swing, holding them just above where they connected with the wooden seat. He began to slowly push Percy and the swing backwards until Percy had no choice but to reach for the larger wizard lest he be tipped off. Within moments, Percy’s hands were on Oliver’s broad shoulders, Oliver’s hands were gripping Percy’s hips, Percy’s legs were around Oliver’s waist and they were both smiling. And, from the looks of it, exchanging the kind of banter which would indicate that their relationship had notched up a level. Maybe even into a different zone.

“You’re right,” Hermione said, feeling happy for the two wizards who she now suspected must have been dancing around this for a while. It was one thing to confess your feelings to someone you liked when you knew their sexual orientation, and quite another to take the leap that these two were making. “There’s only one possible conclusion to this. I feel a bit guilty for watching, though. Like a voyeur…”

“This is The Burrow, Hermione! There’s no privacy in a family the size of ours!” Somehow, she thought, Fred managed to make the most outrageous activities sound normal and acceptable. Hermione found herself wondering what it would be like to be in Percy’s position with Fred holding the ropes. Then she swallowed, comprehending too late that she had some unrealised romantic feelings for the wizard who was currently holding her in his arms. The wizard who was leaning closer to her ear each time he spoke. “That’s why we’re behind the curtain, love,” he said, even more quietly than before.

Hermione spoke quietly too. “I thought we were behind the curtain because we were spying on Perciver’s impending romance,” she said.

“That too.” Fred was always so quick with his words; she liked that about him. She liked it a lot. “And I love it when you use long words, by the way. But I’m feeding two birds with one cauldron cake,” he said.

“Oh yes?” she asked, looking around them and wondering if she was about to be pranked. Thank goodness she hadn’t revealed any of what she had been experiencing. He might never let her hear the end of it.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I got to thinking about this name thing. Tried a few options. And I quite like Fremione.” He sounded as matter of fact as if he had been discussing whether they should have tea or hot chocolate. “I mean, we could go for,” he slowed his speech to ensure he got it right, “Her … my … oh … red, which might sound distinguished or might just sound wanky. Hermed sounds like something bad has happened, like, oh no, you’ve been Hermed.” She laughed. “That’s no good,” he continued. Fred shook his head and gently began to turn her around in his arms until she was looking up at him. “So,” he said, his face inches above hers. “What do you think? Would you be willing to give Fremione a go?”

“Are you serious, or are you teasing me?” she asked, in a voice that made it clear that a hex was only seconds away from becoming his reality.

Eighteen months later, in his best man’s speech, George would report that Fred had never had to work harder to suppress the usual, “I’m not Sirius, I’m Fred,” retort that should have followed that gift of a question.

“Not teasing,” he replied, gently stroking her hair back from her face. “Just think you’re gorgeous, Hermione. And clever. Witty. The only witch who’ll keep up with my rubbish. Probably the only witch who can balance me out and give our children half a chance of being normal. Want to kiss you, love. Can I kiss you?”

In reply, and because she could see from Perciver’s example that rules needed to be set about who was in charge, Hermione put her hands on Fred’s shoulders and pushed him until his bottom was perched on the windowsill, which made her an inch or two taller. That allowed her to be the one who leaned in and initiated the kiss, and Fred groaned as she did so, widening his legs so that she could stand between them. Their lips met, and she cradled his cheek, stroking the tip of her tongue across his lower lip.

“Come home with me this evening?” he asked, after they had kissed and petted each other for a few minutes. “Mum won’t mind; she’s got loads to do and we’ll all be here for days over Christmas. And Georgelina are out tonight, so I could cook you dinner and then snog you on the sofa…”

Hermione laughed at the realisation that he had discovered a much nicer pet name for the pairing of his twin and their school friend. “That sounds lovely,” she said, untangling herself from Fred and pulling them both out from behind the curtain and into the living room as the two wizards began to walk towards the house. She raised her wand, casting spells to illuminate the strings of fairy lights on the tree. “But I’d kind of like to congratulate Perciver first. Let them know how happy we are for them.”

“Alright,” he said, keen to do the same. After all, it was Percy who had cast the shield spell which had saved him from the falling wall, and the act had completely mended Percy’s relationship with the rest of his family. “Perciver!” he exclaimed loudly, bouncing over like an overexcited puppy as the two wizards came through the kitchen door. He embraced both Oliver and his brother and then gave each of them a smacking kiss on the cheek, ensuring they understood the depth of his enthusiasm about their relationship. “We love you!” 

“Congratulations,” said Hermione, adding her own smiles, hugs and kisses to the mix. “I had no idea, but I’m so happy for you both.” 

Percy and Oliver looked slightly dazed by Fred’s reaction, but they were nonetheless pleased with it. Fred took a step back, putting his arm around Hermione and hugging her to his side as she smiled at Percy and Oliver. “We’re Fremione,” he announced, looking at his witch in a way that left the other wizards in no doubt as to the nature of his and Hermione’s relationship. “And,” he continued, “do feel free to use that knowledge if you need to deflect mum later. Least I can do as the latest of my thank yous for the wall.” Percy chuckled. That was a much better thank you than the WWW products which Fred liked to send, badly gift wrapped, to his office in the Ministry.

Hermione held onto Fred more tightly when she heard his words. She didn’t like to think about that bloody wall. But Fred was in full swing. 

“Now,” he said to Oliver, “don’t forget he has lots of brothers, even though he’s a scrawny, speccy git, and a sister who’s the scariest of all of us.” Oliver nodded, looking serious. Next, Fred turned back to Percy, winking as he held his brother’s gaze, “and don’t let him shower alone when he loses, Perce. Right, then,” he continued, grinning at the pair of them one last time, “as you were ... I’m going to take my lovely girlfriend back to my flat and ply her with mulled wine and kisses. Night!”

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Perciver and Fremione didn’t see each other again until Christmas eve, when Molly and Arthur hosted a mince pie and eggnog evening for the whole family. But while Fred had spent the previous few days proudly telling everyone how lucky he was to have won the heart of his favourite witch, Percy was being more reserved about sharing details of his own love life. He had brought Oliver with him and Fred had wanted to ask how things were going, but Hermione had urged caution.

“They’ll tell everybody in their own time,” she whispered into his ear, so that she wouldn’t be overheard. Luckily, most people were focused on Bill and Fleur, who had announced that evening that Fleur was pregnant. “They might just want some time together before everybody finds out, you know. Not everybody is as extraverted as you are…”

Fred pulled a horrified face and then winked at his witch.

“You’re right, love. As always,” he said.

It was a good party, but Molly had been clear that it was to finish by ten. Even magical ovens took several hours to cook a turkey, she had reminded them, and she and Arthur were planning to rise at five. “You’re all welcome to arrive for breakfast anytime from eight,” she said, beaming at her assembled family.

They began to take their leave and floo home, and soon only Fred and Oliver were the only people in the living room who weren’t spending the night at The Burrow. When Molly bustled back into the kitchen, leading all of the dirty glasses to the sink with her wand, Fred leaned down to give Hermione a long kiss goodbye. “Are you going up soon?” he asked. Then he lowered his voice. “Because if so, I’ll see you sooner than you think…”

Hermione pulled back a little, looking puzzled, but Fred only winked and then called a goodbye to his parents before heading for the kitchen door. Hermione was unsure why he would want to go out into the cold and apparate home rather than using the floo, which was linked to his flat, but this was only the latest in a small string of interesting mysteries that came hand-in-hand with being Fred Weasley’s girlfriend. She was discovering that she rather enjoyed not knowing everything that went on in his mind.

“I’ll walk out with you,” Oliver said to Fred, touching Percy’s shoulder gently as he did. Hermione turned away, slowly picking up her things and straightening cushions before heading to the stairs, wanting to give Oliver and Percy the chance to kiss, out of her sight, if they wanted. 

But she didn’t make it further than the top of the first flight of stairs before she heard Molly’s voice calling out of the kitchen window. 

“Fred Weasley and Oliver Wood! Put those brooms back in the shed and get back in here now!”

Both of the wizards were nearly a foot taller than Molly, and both were terrified of her, so naturally they did exactly as she asked. As they walked back to the house, Hermione came back down and went to stand beside Percy; neither quite sure what was happening.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Molly asked Fred and Oliver, although the fact that Arthur was pouring all six of them a small firewhisky nightcap did indicate that she might not be as cross as she sounded.

“We were just going for a little ride…” Fred began, although he and Oliver had both been surprised that they had had such similar thoughts and had both headed in the direction of the broom shed when they left the house. 

“You must think I was born yesterday,” Molly said, toasting them with her glass and laughing as she sipped her drink. “Fred,” she looked at her son, “it’s freezing cold out there; if you want to spend the night snuggling Hermione, then just use the stairs like a normal wizard, please. You don’t need to fly in through her window.”

It was rare that Fred Weasley was lost for words, but Fred Weasley was lost for words. It was Hermione who looked up at him with a soft smile and whispered, “thanks, Molly.”

“And as for you, Oliver Wood,” Molly said, turning to the quidditch player and addressing him as if he were a wayward child. “I may not have given birth to you but you’re my son too now, and I’m not having you flying around in the dark and cold either." She stepped forward and pulled the two of them into an embrace. "I'm delighted that you two seem to have figured things out after all these years. Now," she patted Oliver's face with her hand, "Percy’s room isn’t locked, and you can use the stairs as well.” She finished her drink and sent that glass flying off to the kitchen before waving her finger in a spiral at all of theirs, encouraging them to drink up quickly so she could get to bed. “Come on now … I’ll be chasing you all for help with vegetables in the morning, so you’d best make good use of your time alone now…”

As the four of them began to climb the wooden stairs, each couple hand in hand and sharing whispers and kisses on their journey, Molly turned to her husband as they stood in front of the Christmas tree, making sure the house was locked and warded for the night.

“Fremione and Perciver,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s what they’re calling themselves, apparently.”

“Oh?” said her husband, wrapping his arm around her so that he could give her a few hugs and kisses of their own as they made their way to bed. “I wonder what that makes us?”

“Marthur!” Fred’s voice was unmistakeable as it floated down the stairs. Molly rolled her eyes; she never could keep on top of the extendable ears that her twins placed around the house. “Merry Christmas, Marthur!” he called down, a little more loudly.

“Merry Christmas, Fred,” she called up to her middle son, shaking her head at his antics but beyond delighted that she now had almost a full set of partnered children with whom to celebrate the festive season. Just Charlie to focus on now, before he ended up as Charagon…


End file.
